Read Always the Wedding Planner, Never the Bride Online
Authors: Sandra D. Bricker
Always the Wedding Planner, Never the Bride (22 page)
As Sherilyn went over the notes for her two o'clock consultation, she noticed a pale blue sticky note on the inside of the file.
From the desk of Georgiann Markinson.
She recognized the cream-colored vine embossed along the top.
This is a very important consult. She's marrying the son of our future governor.
She moved the note to the inside back cover of the file so that the bride wouldn't see it if she opened it in her presence and, just as she added a blank consultation form to the file, the door opened slightly and a light knock drew her attention.
A poised, elegant older woman entered first. "Come on, dear," she said, and a young woman followed her inside.
"You must be Brittany Lund. I'm Sherilyn Caine, the wedding consultant here at The Tanglewood. Please come in and sit down."
Brittany passed her, and Sherilyn extended her hand to the older woman. "Are you Brittany's mother?"
"Oh, no. Beverly Pendleton, mother of the groom."
She seemed to greet her surroundings more than Sherilyn. The woman sat down in the chair beside Brittany and faced forward. Sherilyn hurried to fill her spot on the other side of the desk.
"We're interested in a very traditional ceremony," Beverly began. "I'm told that arrangements here at The Tanglewood are all-inclusive? Room, reception, décor, cake . . ."
"Yes, ma'am. We offer a full-service experience, from engagement to honeymoon." She'd heard Madeline say that, and she stole it, tucking it away for a meeting like this one.
Sherilyn grabbed a pen from the drawer of the desk. She smiled at Brittany as she said, "I'd like to get some idea of what you've already started planning."
The girl didn't even bother to open her mouth. She simply glanced at Beverly, awaiting her reply. The woman did not disappoint.
"The guest list is firm at two hundred. We want a traditional ceremony, and a full sit-down meal in an adjacent venue. Our theme will be a black-and-white ball, so guests will be asked to wear black, and the one and only floral statement will be red and white roses."
"It sounds very elegant," Sherilyn said, mostly to Brittany. When she glanced back at Beverly, she was met with an alarming grimace.
"Is it—" the woman said, drawing a circle around her face with an extended index finger. "—contagious?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You seem to have a . . . well . . ."
"Oh!" Sherilyn said on a chuckle. "The rash?"
"Yes."
"Just an allergic reaction. It's almost gone, actually."
"It was worse?"
"Yes. Much."
"Poor dear." Her sympathy dropped flat without any warmth to back it up. "We've set the date," Beverly stated, sliding a wedding invitation across the desk. "But we're at a handicap because, at this late date, the venue has just fallen through."
"Oh, that's terrible. But you still have all of the vendors locked in?"
"Some. Many came with discounts and contractual obligations to the inn. So we're down to just two weeks from the wedding, and we have to get things organized again. Of course, we'll have to have the invitations reprinted with a revision and mailed out in time for the guests to make any necessary arrangements. So I'll need you to confirm everything as quickly as possible."
"Two weeks." Sherilyn's heart pounded. Georigann was sure to lose faith early on if she couldn't accommodate this particular VIB (Very Important
Bride).
"First of all, let me check the date."
She tapped at the keyboard to access the SharePoint site for the hotel, and she held her breath until the event calendar came up on the screen. When she saw the two largest ballrooms still clear, she released the oxygen from her lungs and smiled. "Well, we're good on the date. Thank goodness!"
"I'm prepared to give you a deposit this afternoon if you feel you can accommodate us. I've taken the liberty of preparing a list of things we have in place, as well as things we'll need, from a block of accommodations for out-of-town guests to suggestions regarding décor." She produced a fat file folder
from her bag and set it on the desk between them. "You can look it over and put together some solid suggestions, and we can meet again first thing next week, if that's satisfactory."
"I think you're the most well-prepared mother of the groom I've ever met," she replied.
"Now if we can tour the venue possibilities?"
Beverly didn't even wait for an answer. She just rose from her chair and crossed the consultation office, waiting at the door for Brittany and Sherilyn to catch up. As they followed her out the door, the bride-to-be looked a little like a schoolgirl being led to the principal's office.
Nothing much changed in her expression over the next hour, except for the slight flash of delight as she stood at the back of the expansive English Rose ballroom.
"It's exquisite," Beverly commented, and Brittany sighed.
"It certainly is."
"The English Rose holds a maximum of 225 guests, so it should be just right for your guest list," Sherilyn told them. "Also with the accent of red roses in your plans, it seems like a perfect fit. We can tone down the red with fabric draping or—"
"No." Beverly cut her words cleanly in half. "I like it."
The woman turned and headed for the door before a smile flickered on Brittany's face and she softly told Sherilyn, "As if it matters, I
love
it."
"Of course it matters. You're my bride."
"David's mother holds the checkbook. I'm just here to look pretty on top of the cake."
The giggle she released didn't quite match the moment, but Sherilyn returned it with a smile.
"Is Georgiann here today?" Beverly asked on the walk back to the lobby.
"No, she's transitioned out of her work here at the hotel."
"I didn't realize." She sized up Sherilyn with a headlong glance. "She's not involved at all?"
"Well, Georgiann is always involved in some way. But no. She and her sister Madeline have both moved on now."
"Pity."
At the lobby door, Beverly dismissed Sherilyn with the wave of her hand. "You put together the contracts, and I'll return at the end of the business day to leave a deposit. If there are going to be any delays, please let me know so I don't backtrack to Roswell without cause."
"Certainly. But there won't be any delays. I should have everything ready for you by 5:30. My office is on the fourth floor, and you can come directly upstairs when you arrive."
On her way out, Brittany took Sherilyn's hand briefly and squeezed it, mouthing a sincere "Thank you!" before releasing it and following her future mother-in-law through the glass doors.
She must really love the guy to put up with that,
she thought before heading back to the consultation room to pick up Beverly's folder of directives. Suddenly, Vanessa didn't look so bad to her, all things considered.
When she noticed William standing at the front desk, she swung by and tapped the counter. "How are you today, William?"
"Very well, Miss Caine. And you?"
"Very well also. I think my wedding dress was delivered yesterday. Emma said you have it in the back office."
"Do we?"
"Well, I hope so," she chuckled. "Or this will be the second gown I've lost."
William left the desk and stepped into the office, but nearly a full minute ticked by before he returned.
"I don't see it, Miss Caine. I'm sorry."
"What?" Sherilyn's eyes popped open wide, and she felt a flush of anxiety pour over her like a sudden summer shower.
"Can you check again?"
"It's not in the office closet or on the back of the door. Someone probably delivered it to your hotel room when you didn't pick it up yourself."
"Oh." Sherilyn took a deep, wobbly breath. "Of course. That's probably it. Thank you, William."
She rushed down the hall to the elevator. Instead of riding all the way up to her office as planned, she pressed the button for the second floor. She scurried down the hall to Room 210 and fumbled to open the door. Once it was shut behind her, she reeled to check the hook on the back of it. When she didn't find her dress hanging there, she tossed her laptop to the bed and scanned the room. Nothing on the chair, nor the bed. She threw open the doors to the armoire, raced into the bathroom in hope of finding it there. When she didn't, Sherilyn repeated the choreography one more time, and then another, before she was able to face the fact that her wedding dress hadn't been brought to her room.
She flopped on the edge of the bed and dropped her face into her hands.
"No, no, no, no," she groaned.
How could—
count 'em!—
TWO wedding gowns disappear into thin air?
"This is not
HAPPENING!"
Part III
1-3 Months Before the Wedding:
Bride & Groom:
___ Apply for the marriage license
___ Choose the wedding bands
___ Arrange pre-marital counseling
___ Finalize guest list
___ Choose and order invitations
___ Choose honeymoon location and make reservations
___ Choose accommodations for out-of-town guests
Wedding Planner:
___ Set date and venue for rehearsal dinner
___ Reserve rental items
___ Focus on accessories, shoes, lingerie for the bride
___ Coordinate accessories and shoes for bridesmaids
___ Coordinate decoration vendors for ceremony and reception
___ Provide bride with list of suggestions for bridal party gifts
___ Finalize sizing, engraving of wedding bands
___ Arrange for wedding night suite
H
ow is that possible?" Andy asked her, and Sherilyn tightened her grip on the table.
"This is what I'm saying."
Andy couldn't help wondering what the deal was about Sherilyn finding—and keeping—a wedding dress. It might have been funny if it wasn't so heartbreaking.
"We'll find it," Emma promised her from the kitchen.
"So let me get this straight," Russell chimed in, dropping into the backwards chair before them. "Your first dress was lost in shipping. And now the second one is lost too. Disappeared into thin air?"
"I know," she replied. "It's absurd!"
"It's not lost," Emma said, delivering coffee to each of them. "It's
misplaced."
"I think one thing is abundantly clear here," he added, and they all looked at him with trepidation.
"Something's clear?" Sherilyn asked, vacating her chair to retrieve more creamer.
"Yeah. The two of you are not meant to be!"
Sherilyn shrieked while Andy groaned, and Emma smacked Russell on the arm.
"Relax, I'm joshing you two."
Andy shook his head and glared at his shoes as Sherilyn dumped a quick dollop of half-and-half into her cup.
"Of course, you
could
do better than this bloke, if you're looking for an excuse to give me a tumble."
"That's enough out of you," Andy warned, and he opened his arms to Sherilyn.
Emma took a sip from her coffee and shook her head. "The Sherilyn I used to know would never have caved to wedding dress adversity this way. The Sherilyn I used to know was a fighter. She was . . . scrappy!"
"Do tell," Russell said with a wicked grin.
"Oh, you wouldn't have known her. She was ferocious."
Andy hadn't meant to, but he chuckled.
"What's that supposed to mean!" Sherilyn demanded, hands on her ample hips and a pretend-pout on her sweet, red mouth.
Andy shrugged. "You know I love everything about you. But
ferocious?"
"Oh yeah!" Emma piped up. "She played soccer like a wild woman."
"Soccer!" Russell exclaimed. "A woman after my own heart!"
"She went bungee jumping and rock climbing . . ."
"No, she didn't," Andy stated dryly, but Sherilyn nodded her head at him.
"I remember one time when she organized a group of our friends, and they all camped out overnight in the middle of winter, just to be first in line for tickets to Bob Seger's comeback tour."
Andy laughed out loud. "You listened to Bob Seger?"
Sherilyn shrugged timidly. "He's a classic."
"Sher was quite the rocker, Andy."
Russell nodded as he looked Sherilyn up and down. "Yeah. I can see that. Sure. But . . . what
changed
you?"
The look in Sherilyn's eyes told Andy that she wished she knew. The rocker wild child Emma described had gotten lost somewhere, but he resolved to find a way to show her that he was awestruck by the woman she'd become. There wasn't a single thing Andy would have changed about Sherilyn.
She sat down on his knee and dipped into his shoulder as Andy surrounded her with his arms. "Come here, you little rock star," he said, and he kissed the top of her head.
She chuckled at that and released a heavy sigh. "Oh, Andy, my dress."
"It's going to be fine," he promised her.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
Henry circled them and sat down beside them, placing his chin on Sherilyn's leg.
She ruffled the top of the dog's head as she told them, "You know, I met the saddest young bride today. She came to meet me with her fiancé's mother, who was clearly calling all the shots as well as paying the bills." She rubbed Andy's hand with her thumb, and she wheezed slightly as she told him, "It's the biggest day of the girl's life, and she doesn't have any say in the plans. Just watching her made my heart hurt."
"Maybe you should start making some wedding plans of your own," Andy suggested, and she glanced up at him, her moist eyes wide. "Spend a little of that focus on yourself as a client, and let's start seriously planning our wedding."
"Mean it?"
"Of course I do." Taking her hand, he jiggled the engagement ring on her finger. "I didn't give you this rock out of the kindness of my heart, young lady. I want a little something in return. And a wedding is a good place to start."
"Now we're talkin'!" Emma exclaimed, and she snatched the calendar hanging on the refrigerator and dropped it on the table in front of them. "Let's talk dates!"
Sherilyn giggled and nuzzled her head into the curve of Andy's neck. As she sighed, he inhaled the faint vanilla-citrus fragrance of her shampoo.
"I love you," she whispered, and her breath tickled his ear. By the time she slipped into her coat and headed for the door a few minutes later, she seemed relaxed and revived.
"I'll call you tomorrow," he said, and he gave her a kiss goodnight that promised to keep her warm until then. "I love you."
"I lo—" She stopped, mid-word, then drew in a breath and coughed it out.
Andy grabbed her by the shoulders and took a step back to look at her. Sherilyn's face had turned crimson red, and her hands flew to her throat as she began to wheeze and cough.
"Sher?" Emma cried, bouncing to her feet. "Sher, what is it?"
"I . . . can't . . . breathe."
Without another word, Andy swooped her up from the ground, grabbed his keys from the table by the door, and jogged back through the house.
"What's going on?" Russell asked.
"Taking her to the hospital," he returned as he plowed through the door to the garage and deposited her in the passenger seat of his car. "Just take slow, even breaths. Slow and even."
"Should I come?" Emma called out.
"I'll call you."
"I'm following in my car."
Sherilyn tried to communicate, but it looked like the words in her head couldn't quite squeeze out of her throat.
"Don't talk," he warned as he slammed the door shut and jogged around the car and slipped behind the wheel. "Don't try to talk."
As he barrelled down the driveway in reverse, he looked back for an instant. Russell stood in the middle of the garage looking after them with Henry at his feet.
Andy pressed the button to lower the garage door. Flurries of snow fell, and he flipped on the windshield wipers at the corner stop. They tapped out the backbeat of the rhythm of Sherilyn's shallow, wheezing attempts at breathing.
"Hang in there," he told her softly. "Slow, even breaths." If only Andy could have taken his own advice.
"What is causing these episodes, Doctor? This is my second trip to the hospital!"
"It is clearly allergic," Dr. Sameshi told them in broken English. "Chart say allergic to aloe vera. You use any new lotions or hair products today?"
"No."
"You?" he asked Andy.
"Nothing. Nothing with aloe," he promised Sherilyn.
"Wheeze and breath, bumpy rash. You find the source of your allergic. Tell me where located when occurred first episode."
Sherilyn scratched her hazy head. "Well, umm . . ."
"We were ice skating," Andy interjected.
"You were together?"
"Yes. And the second time, I was over at the house for the barbecue."
"Boyfriend's house?"
"Yes. Well, our house. We're getting married and—"
"And tonight boyfriend with you again."
"Yes. We were at the house." She paused, mid-thought. "Where's Emma?"
"Waiting room," Andy answered before asking, "What do you think it is, Doctor?"
Dr. Sameshi shrugged and grimaced. "I think boyfriend your allergic maybe."
Andy and Sherilyn glanced at one another, then looked back at the doctor.
"I don't understand," she said.
"Skating with boyfriend," he explained. "Barbecue with boyfriend. At house with boyfriend. I think allergic is boyfriend."
"What!"
"That's ridiculous."
"Maybe not then," he conceded, and he rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. "But maybe so."
"She is not allergic to me, Doctor."
"What then?" he asked Andy.
"Well, you're the doctor. You tell us!"
"I thought I did. Common denominator you, boyfriend."
Sherilyn watched the gears in motion through Andy's eyes. Three episodes, all three times with Andy.
Suddenly, the bridal gown disappearances fell into place like those turning gears in Andy's brain. God was certainly trying to stop the wedding! No wedding gown—twice! Wheezing and rashes and tingling ears. And now this.
"I'm allergic to my fiancé?"
"Seems like it."
"I'm allergic to Andy."
"Is this Andy?" the doctor asked, pointing his thumb toward Andy.
"Yes."
"Then yes."
"No!" she countered.
"Okay. Good-bye."
"Wait!" she cried as he exited the exam room. "You can't just tell me I'm allergic to my fiancé and walk away."
"You have Benadryl injection, prescription for inhaler, note for follow-up for allergic scratch test. Maybe allergic to new cologne."
Sherilyn looked at Andy, and he exclaimed, "I don't wear cologne!"
"Okay. Good-bye."
And with that, Dr. Sameshi pulled the curtain of the cubicle next to them. "Hello. You fall on ice? Oh, that don't look too good."
Andy stopped by the hotel that morning to check on Sherilyn, and he felt pretty good about leaving her with Emma and Fee. While Emma applied white cream to the rash of red bumps, Fee entertained them with her version of
Dude, Where's Her Wedding Dress?
The latter, of course, being a question Fee had asked every employee on the Tanglewood payroll.
"I've got most of the staff looking for it, and we're going to find your dress!" Fee had declared with the kind of vigor that made Andy actually believe her.
All that, and an omelette for breakfast. Sherilyn was in capable hands, but before Andy could even make his way out the door, one rough knock sounded on it.
Russell's voice grated on him, a little like nails across a very long chalkboard.
"Morning, love."
"Russell! What are you doing here?"
Good question.
A stranger followed Russell and Jackson into the room.
"I had to check in on you before we go, and I wanted you to meet my mate, J.R. Hunt."
"J.R.," Sherilyn greeted the guy. "You're finally here."
"You must be Sherilyn. I hear you gave everyone quite a scare last night."
The guy looked like a James Dean wannabe with his worn brown leather jacket with open zippers from wrist to elbow over a plain black t-shirt and worn blue jeans. Shaggy waves of brown hair were slicked back from his stubbly face, and his blue eyes glinted as he looked at Sherilyn over the square black sunglasses perched on the lower bridge of his nose.
"And these are Sherilyn's mates," Russell told him. "Jackson's woman, Emma. And that's Sean's main squeeze, Fee. Over there is my host, Dr. Andy."
"Good to meet Russ's merry band of saviors."
"So when do you two shove off?" Andy asked, trying not to sound as eager as he felt.
"We're leaving directly," Russell replied. "Jack's been good enough to let us park the rig in the hotel lot for a couple o' weeks while we're on the road. And J.R. has brought along a sweet Harley ride for each of us."
"You're riding motorcycles in this weather?" Sherilyn cried. "You'll freeze!"
"Nah, love. We're headed south where the sun is shining bright."
"You're sure?"
"Seventy-four degrees in Tampa. Seventy-nine in Miami."
"Be sure and check in with us when you get back."
"Righty-oh."
"J.R., you'll look out for him, right?" Sherilyn asked him.
"He has a tendency to ooze trouble."
"I'm aware," he answered with the flash of a smile.
Sherilyn stood up and slipped her arms around Russell's neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Be careful," she told him, and Andy resisted the urge to say or do something to shove the good-byes along.
"Will do."
Russell made the rounds in the room, saying his good-byes as if he had a worldwide trek in mind rather than a couple of weeks on a motorcycle trip with a buddy. When he reached Andy, he shook his hand.